


From Closets to Cells

by TwixforBats



Category: Arrested Development
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-17 22:42:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/872794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwixforBats/pseuds/TwixforBats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are probably worse times to meet the family of your boyfriend. For example, Tony would have probably not made a good impression had he been the one in a holding cell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Closets to Cells

 It's not anger that makes Tony stab his noodles, even if there's an excessive ardor in the motion that, alright, maybe comes from some kind of underlying rage he's trying to repress: it's worry. Most of it. Part of it. The part that isn't anger. 

So maybe he's a little angry, but isn't he justified? Gob is two hours late, and he knows where Tony lives so he can't have gotten lost on his way there. He had even asked Tony to order some food, the bastard- was he mocking him?

He is angry, and maybe he's trying not to think about the reason why Gob is so late and hasn't even called to tell him- whatever it is, Tony has firmly decided that it isn't anything serious. Definitely not an accident, or anything. That is not something that happens.

So yes, he's actually pretty calm and collected, and the only reason why he bolts for his cell phone the moment it rings is that, well, he just likes answering his cell phone. 

“You stood me up,” he growls in a way that is definitely neither angry nor worried, and the next thing he knows an avalanche of words is coming out of his cell, drowning him in second-hand panic.

 

 

* * *

 

 

There's something weird about the way the officer says “he's here for the Bluths”- like it's everyday business, like he's had to say it a thousand times already. It's eerie, it's an ominous hint to the real nature of that family, and Tony can only tell himself that he's being silly and that nothing is wrong.

He can tell himself all he wants, but it's difficult to believe that it's just the officer being incredibly nonchalant when the Bluths themselves look perfectly fine in a prison cell. There is some yelling – mostly one of them exasperatedly telling the rest of the uninterested bunch that “I'm out of this family” - and there is a vague hint of annoyance – mostly from the rest of the bunch as the yelling happens – but apart from that it mostly looks like a particularly boring Thanksgiving without a television and enough alcohol to mask the fact that they have drained every possible talking point a couple of hours earlier, probably while carving the turkey.

“We need ice.”

The tone is dry and matter-of-fact: it's a simple statement, one that shouldn't really be heard over the frustrated ranting of what's-his-name but that draws Tony's attention instantly. It's Gob talking, of course, it's basically impossible to not instantly recognize his voice, but he doesn't seem to have noticed Tony: he's sitting next to a blond woman, looking somewhat bored while pressing what Tony really hopes is a naturally red handkerchief on his left hand, raised slightly above his shoulder.

“We really do.” She sighs, gingerly feeling her bruised cheekbone while grimacing slightly. “If we had rum we could use the ice to make it rum-flavored tea- I could do with some rum-flavored tea now.”

There's a flicker of mischievousness in Gob's eyes as he smirks, turning his head the other way so as to hide from the woman while muttering something that should probably sound like “yeah that'd be nice,” but that is actually a vaguely encouraging string of vowels that become even more unclear as he sets his eyes on Tony.

“Tony!” Recognition lights Gob's face as he jumps up, letting out a second excited “he's Tony” towards his family as he quickly walks over to him: the rest of the family mumble a weary “hi Tony” before going back to their half-hearted argument, ignoring the third and most excited “Tony!” that Gob basically screams when he clings to the bars.

“Tony!” He repeats for the fourth time in ten seconds, smiling brightly as he does something that looks a bit like he's trying to squeeze his head through the bars. “I knew you'd come. Please bail me out? I can't go to jail, Tony, they'll stab me.”

Tony opens his mouth, an 'is that what they're calling it nowadays' threatening to come out as part of his brain debates whether it's best to be nice to a man that just stood him up in favor of being arrested, or to blurt out a joke that's probably a bit off-color when the possibility of Gob going to jail seems to be very real: in the end, both parts are overrun by a third and most important question. “What the hell is going on? Why are there sailors outside? Who's the Korean kid in the hall?”

Gob squints his eyes, frowning slightly. “Annyong?”

It takes a couple of seconds for Tony to get around the fact that Gob has, in fact, just greeted him in Korean: why he would do that Tony doesn't know, but he knows that he's not mistaken. He might not be a polyglot, but there are four things he can say in five languages and he's definitely sure about them: 'I'm here for the forget-me-nows', 'wonder', 'do you have syphilis' and 'hello'. So he asks.

“ _Hello_?”

“Ah, yes,” Gob shrugs, shrugging slightly. “Annyong. He probably left something in the banana stand, I don't know- that's not the important part, Tony, the important part is that I'll die if I go to jail, I just- I can't get to my keys, you know?”

Yes, Tony knows: in fact they had discussed the fact that Gob's method was ridiculously antiquated and that if he really wanted to always have a key with him he might want to consider making a little pocket in his mouth. Gob had reacted to that idea as though it was the most disgusting thing in the world, which was kind of rich coming from somebody who had to routinely wade through vomit or worse just to find his home keys- which reminds him, he really has to buy Gob a key chain.

“Can we please- what was that about seals? And second time light treason? There's a second time for light treason? And-” Tony frowns, looking at the old woman huddled in a blanket at the other end of the cell, “is that your mother? Look, I get that you must have gotten it from somebody, but I refuse to believe that she out-drank an English man- those people drink like they don't want to live anymore.”

“Tony.” Gob smiles fondly, his eyes suddenly brightened by an affectionate light. “Sweet, naïve Tony.” Tony feels an eyebrow cock up but refrains from saying anything, mostly because he knows that Gob isn't done yet.

“My dear Tony.”

_Now_ he's done. “Thank you Gobie.” Some affection manages to creep through the sarcasm despite Tony's best intentions. “Listen, just... okay, you'll tell me later. How much is the bail?”

“Two billion dollars!”

Gob is literally beaming as he says that, bouncing slightly on the spot as he completely fails to realize that Tony is not even entirely sure of how that number is supposed to be written. For a second he wonders (the word, somehow, doesn't even manage to make him smile) just how much Gob thinks he makes per show, or if Gob has any idea at all of how money works: then Tony shudders as he realizes that the answer to that second question is probably 'no'.

“I don't have two billion dollars.” Tony is strangely calm as he states the obvious. Common sense would dictate for him to laugh as he says that, but it comes out serious: laughing would just be overkill. “I do, however, have enough money to get masks, beards and two tickets to Portugal.”

“South America! Clever Tony. My stomach hurts though, could you get the keys?”

“We're not going to do this now, Gob, I don't have nearly enough glitter. Tomorrow-”

“We can't wait until tomorrow!” Gob slams his hands against the bars in wild panic, only to grimace in pain as he suddenly remembers that there was a reason why he was pressing a handkerchief to his hand. “I'll be in jail tomorrow and the leader of the White Power gang wants to stab me!”

With the most illogical part of his brain instantly classifying the bite on Gob's hand as 'something a seal did' (Tony doesn't even want to know what it says about him) Tony is left to wonder (eh) why the leader of the White Power gang would want to stab Gob, considering that he's white: as Tony's asking himself that, though, a “stab? Is that what they're calling it nowadays?” slips out of his lips, and he realizes he's said it only when it's too late.

Gob doesn't seem to take offense, though. “I mean actually stab, he's already done that once- you've seen the scar.”

“Why would he have seen the scar?”

The blond woman sounds mildly confused, though not nearly interested enough to hint that she has heard more than just the last four words: Gob just rolls his eyes, pursing his lips in something that looks vaguely like irritation.

“Hey, Lindsay, could you listen to me before you call me in four days because you need my help again?”

“Yeah, you're going away, Michael, we know the speech by heart by now.” She turns to Gob again, leaning slightly in his direction. “How did he get to see the scar? And who is he, by the way?”

Tony considers the idea of getting offended, but thinks better of it when he realizes that she's going to be sent to jail while he's still out and kinda famous-y: so, with a victorious 'ah-ah' echoing in his mind, he just shrugs and waits for them to at least recognize him as the man who is in a relationship with their older brother/older son.

“He is Tony,” Gob says that as though it's obvious: in fact he even sounds vaguely annoyed that he's had to repeat that. “And he knows because he's in a relationship.”

There are a couple of seconds of silence, every single Bluth looking at Gob with the kind of expression one would have when asked to open a door with a rubber duck: it's pure and utter confusion, and it's the thing that makes Tony realize that, apparently, Gob has never broached the subject with his family.

One of them, Michael, apparently, finally ends the silence. “And he's in a relationship with...?”

Another pause, Gob frowning slightly as he considers something before saying an airy, “With me!”

The silence stretches on again, Gob smiling awkwardly as his family raises a collective eyebrow and Tony groans inwardly as the sudden awareness that Gob has decided to introduce Tony to his family on the one day where his inability to spend two billion dollars in one sitting is cruelly exposed.

“Yeah,” Gob says cheerfully, “I'm apparently kinda gay!”

_And_ it's also the moment he's decided to come out to his family, yes, that's just wonderful, Tony is definitely going to hit it off with these people.

“I'm not surprised,” the one who's apparently Michael says, frowning slightly. “Why am I not surprised?”

The smile on Gob's face freezes, his eyes widening in something that resembles fear, though Tony can't really understand why- his brother seems to be taking it surprisingly well, after all. Still, Tony can't stop himself from touching his shoulder, though he gets only to brushing slightly Gob's jacket before somebody screams “No touching!”, startling Gob out of his sudden terror.

“There were hints, Michael,” says the old man, possibly Gob's father: he appears to have lost any interest in the situation in favor of checking the window bars, tugging them with desperate insistence. “He did follow people to their cars, after all.”

Tony turns to Gob, a quiet 'what' escaping his lips: Gob shrugs in return, his expression so earnest that it's an insult to suspect for even a second that he might be lying in his utter and complete ignorance of the subject. Of course, whether that had never happened or Gob simply didn't remember it was another question altogether, but this probably wasn't the best moment to investigate.

“Oh.” Michael nods. “Yeah, I guess we could take that as an evidence for something other than the lack of proper parental figures. And there was that guy in the office...”

“And the robe,” the blond woman (Lindsay, she's definitely a Lindsay) says, laughing slightly. “No completely heterosexual man would wear that robe.”

“And you would know, wouldn't you dear?” The old woman huddled in a blanket scoffs, masterfully ignoring Lindsay's glare. “So everybody knew that my oldest son was one of the gays and nobody told me.”

That's the moment Tony realizes that Michael apparently has this weird ability of looking completely blank and yet, at the same time, incredibly acerbic. “I'd explain what a bisexual is, mother, but I'm not sure we could clap our hands fast enough to bring you back to life. And maybe you'd have some insight too if you cared about anyone but yourself?”

“Oh Michael, must you always shift the blame to somebody else? You all hid this from me- to think that I could have protested gay marriage with a gay man instead of Buster...”

_Buster,_ Tony remembers that name. He's the vaguely lizard-like magician who worked with Gob when he first met him- Gob _did_ say that they were brothers, now that he thinks about it. Was he always in the cell with the others? Tony could swear he had just materialized in the corner, he seriously can't remember Buster being there before.

And there appears to be no pass-through behind him- damn he's good. He has to ask Buster how he does that.

“Must you always be so selfish, mother?” Lindsay shakes her head, staring at her disapprovingly. “Always using others to further your own agenda, never caring about those who might suffer because of your actions. People are going to love me now- a Republican with a close connection to a homosexual! Now I'll finally be able to get enough votes to put up that wall.”

“We should celebrate,” Gob's father says, celebration possibly the last thing that could come to mind listening to his voice, “you should get us one of those giant balloons you people always find for your gay prides, fill it with helium, maybe tie it to these bars.”

“Yeah, I can't imagine why Gob took so long to come out, you're all so nice and supportive,” Michael says in that particular way of his, that deadpan expression that seems to be enough for his family to not notice the sarcasm in his voice, or at least not care about it, Tony's not sure: whatever it is, now they're all too busy talking about their own thing while completely ignoring what the others are saying, which is apparently a good thing if one were to judge by Gob's winning smile.

“Well, that went well!” Gob exclaims while winking playfully: Tony can barely stop himself from cringing. For some reason, Gob's wink always makes Tony feel like there's ice running down his spine. “I came out and introduced you to my family, I'd say that we should celebrate with a nice holiday in Portugal!”

Part of Tony would want to note that neither the coming out nor the meeting were intentional and that, if they were to be precise, Gob had lied to him by telling him that he had already told his family about them: the other part of him, however, has just met the rest of the family and is currently staring at them.

“I'm coming back in two hours with the masks.”

Gob grins at him, an angry “no touching!” preemptively stopping him from trying to hug Tony through the bars.

 


End file.
